


I'll Write Your Pain In Blood

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: Bloody76 Week [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Cyborg!76, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Longing for Death, M/M, Pain, Past Relationship(s), Revenge, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2020-12-24 08:44:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21096665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: “I told you, Jackie, it’s a gift,” he turned the vial over in his hand, squeezing it in his hand, the glass shattering easily. “I wanted you to feel everything, to know what it feels like to be completely broken, for your entire body to be your enemy.” The humour was fading, anger slipping in, turning the soft words into a hiss.It has been a lifetime since Jack had felt pain in its entirety, and he hadn't realised how reliant he had become on his ability to heal until it was taken from him.





	1. Chapter 1

Jack hadn’t expected to wake up again, and there was no pleasure in being proven wrong as he was drawn back to consciousness by a sharp pain in his cheek. A slap that ended with torn skin and lines of fire, across his nose and lips and his eyes flew open as he arched up with a shout. His face burned, the pain fresh and overwhelming, but beneath it, was a deeper, throbbing ache that flared to life, as his voice came out in a strangled, broken mess. But he didn’t have time to think about it, to work through the pain, because there were fingers on his chin, forcing his head up at a painful angle, clawed tips tearing into already tender flesh, and he blinked, vision still blurry as he found himself staring into a familiar bone-white mask.

“Reaper…” The word crept our, more painful in its own way than the strangled cry and with it came memories.

_ The world was going in and out of focus. Jack thought that the fighting was still raging around him, but it was hard to make anything out beyond the roar of blood in his ears, the throbbing taking root behind his eyes. I’m going to die here, he realised, blurring gaze returning to Reaper as the other man loomed over him, the bruising grip on his throat tightening further, claws tearing into the back of his neck, locking them together. The Soldier could probably have fought his way free, hell, the Reaper would probably have allowed him, because it would only be delaying the inevitable in their game of cat and mouse, but Jack found himself unable to struggle as he gazed into the deep, empty chasms that were his assailant’s eyes as he felt blood beginning to trickle down his back._

_Did Gabriel see him? Did he feel anything at having Jack like this?_

_ There was no way to tell what lay behind the mask. None of the tiny signs that he had learned to look through when Gabriel was trying to hide things from him. Another stinging reminder that this man wasn’t the one that he had loved and lost and even the fleeting thoughts of fighting back faded, his arms falling by his side. Surrendering to the inevitable. Accepting his death, and the offered escape from this life without the Gabriel he still remembered, and he was drifting, floating away, almost missing the words hissed in his ears as he fell._

_“This is only the beginning, Jack…”_

Grief. Disappointment. Surprise. Fear. Jack wasn’t sure what feeling was prevalent as he stared up at Reaper. _Why didn’t he kill me?_ He had known that he was leaving his self-appointed task unfinished and that there were still a handful of people in the world that would mourn his death, but he had been ready for it, and now he felt lost. Adrift. What made it worse was that he didn’t understand why he was still alive. It wasn’t mercy. There wasn’t enough of Gabriel left behind that mask for the other man to feel such things, much less act on them. Jack had believed there was once upon a time, but that hope had crumbled and shattered, just like the life they’d had together, Overwatch…everything that Jack had ever touched.

So, why was he alive?

_And why hadn’t he healed?_

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, but he had a feeling it had been more than a few hours, especially as he let his gaze drift behind Reaper, not recognising the walls around them. It certainly wasn’t where he’d been before, and that unsettled him even more, because that spoke of a plan, and his stomach tied itself in knots as he wondered just what the other man had planned. Still, that had taken time, and yet his neck – the wounds at the back, the deep bruises – felt as though they were freshly inflicted, and when he swallowed nervously, he could feel the swelling. Evidence that should have been at least half-healed, and now that he was focusing, he realised that the fire in his face wasn’t abating, the fresh wounds burning fiercely. Where was the uncomfortable itch of his skin knitting back together, the tickle of blood being held back from flowing freely down his face?

“What did you do?” Gods, it hurt to speak, and the pain must have shown in his expression, because Reaper laughed, the awful, echoing chuckle that had chased the Soldier across far too many battlefields over the last few months.

“It’s a gift, Jackie.” Jack opened his mouth, unsure of whether he wanted to protest the nickname that Reaper had no right to use or to demand answers, his uneasiness intensifying by the second. However, before he could say a single word, the claws had tightened, his chin caught in a vice grip, and gods it hurt. It hurt in a way that no wound had hurt in years. As uncomfortable and unnatural as it was to feel his body healing itself as soon as the damage registered, he had become accustomed to it, reliant on it even. After all, it was easy to keep fighting and to throw yourself into the worst battles, when you knew you would heal, and the pain of the wounds was little more than an afterthought. It was a shock to feel it like this, his breath catching, as it didn’t fade, the pain blending in with the other until it was hard to feel anything else. “A last, little taste of humanity.”

“What do…?”

Reaper flung him aside, tossing him across the room as though he was nothing, and Jack’s words were lost in a shout of pain as he slammed into the wall. It felt as though Reinhardt had just charged into him at full speed, the wind driven from his body, as he slumped to the ground in a bloody, dazed heap. _It hurt._ He had felt something shift in his side under the impact, and there was as a deeper fire behind each breath now, an ache that he knew was going to get worse, and it wasn’t going away. It wasn’t fading. He tried to move, to push himself up, especially as he heard the slow tread of Reaper moving towards him, but he had barely managed to push himself up onto his elbows, breathing heavily as he tried to focus through the pain. _How do people do this? How did I do this?_

“How does it feel Jack?” A strong, clawed hand wrapped around his ankle and Jack had no time to voice a protest before he was being thrown across the room again. This time something broke, a sharp, piercing pain radiating through his side, and Jack howled, trying to roll away, to crawl, anything to get away from Reaper as he heard him moving towards him again. He was too slow. Reduced to a mortal man. And while he kicked against the hand that reached for him, he might as well have been trying to tickle him for all the impact it had. But his defiance cost him, the Reaper snarling low, and this time when he seized his ankle, he didn’t let go. Instead, his grip turned bruising, and Jack trembled, instinctively knowing that worse was to come, and whereas even hours before he would have welcomed it, the violence a balm against his guilt. Now he quivered in anticipation of the pain to come, long-forgotten terror flooding him as he realised that he wouldn’t be able to brush this off, and then something splintered.

Splinter, and shattered and tore…

And the world turned grey.

Someone was screaming. A terrible sound, hoarse and broken. Jack wanted to wince in sympathy at the sound, unable to imagine what kind of pain could have caused that sound, and it was only when his face twitched, that he realised not only was he wincing…but he was screaming…the sound forced past his ruined throat. With that awareness, he bit down, adding the sting of a bloody lip to the agony, cutting off the sound, the grey slowly ebbing away, although there was haziness lingering at the edge of his vision that he lacked the energy to worry about.

He was on his back again, breath coming in ragged pants as he tried to stop himself from screaming, desperately trying to keep his attention away from the pulsing, broken thing at the end of his leg. Somewhere above him, beyond the edge of his vision Reaper tutted, and then there were fingers on his ankle. It was a feathery touch, and it burned. A sickening inferno taking root, spreading out from where the finger trailed over the ruined limb and Jack was screaming again, twisting, frantically trying to escape Reaper’s touch. In his desperation, he made the mistake of kicking against the ground, and now he wasn’t screaming but shrieking, feeling the darkness rushing it and more than ready to welcome it. But he wasn’t even granted that mercy, as the finger vanished, making just enough of a difference for the pull of unconsciousness to retreat, and Jack sobbed, head falling back as he pleaded. “Kill me.”

“So keen to be rid of me, Jackie?” Reaper moved to crouch beside him, head tilted to the side, studying him. Jack wondered what he looked like, and whether he was broken enough yet. He hoped so. “No, I don’t think so,” he murmured, reaching up, and Jack watched blearily as Reaper unstrapped his mask and let it fall away, revealing the ruined face beneath it. It hurt in a whole different way, because for all his earlier thoughts, and the fact that he knew – even without the pain now radiating through his body, that this wasn’t his Gabriel, all he could see in those terrible features was the man that he had loved. He remembered the first time he had seen it, his rifle falling from suddenly trembling hands, and his heart twisting painfully in his chest.

He’d thought that he could never feel that way again, but this was worse because Gabriel was smiling. Not the half-smile that Jack had chased in the early days, waiting for the full grin that would follow. Or the strained quirk of his lips, when they had both desperately pretended that things were going to be okay. But something darker. Twisted. Broken. A mockery of the expressions he remembered, and it was because of him…the smile growing, giving the hungry, crimson eyes an unholy light as Gabriel’s gaze trailed across his body, lingering on his wounds with a fascination that scared him.

_He’s enjoying this._

It was a terrifying realisation, and it answered his earlier question of why he was still alive. Reaper could have killed him back there, squeezed the life out of him and left his corpse on the ground. He hadn’t, because there would have been no satisfaction in that kill. It would have been too quick, too painless and Jack…Jack had accepted it. He hadn’t fought. He hadn’t begged for mercy. He had welcomed it and been denied it.

“What…?” He could barely speak now, but Gabriel understood. He always had, and if anything, his smile seemed to grow, and Jack’s stomach twisted, as the ruined face stretched and shifted, skin splitting apart to reveal too sharp teeth. But it was nothing compared to the cackle that followed, the sound resonating through him, making him shiver, igniting his wounds once more, pain lancing from injury to injury until he thought that it might sweep him away.

Then something cold touched his cheek, a grounding touch in the madness and he blinked, tilting his head to see what Reaper was pressing into the ruined skin. It was a tiny glass vial, empty now, and he had a feeling he knew where it had gone, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from making a questioning noise. Not sure why he needed to know, after all, it wouldn’t change anything, it wouldn’t soothe the pain that he was in, but it was a hunger, a burn. Something to focus on that wasn’t pain. For a moment he thought that Reaper wasn’t going to answer him, but then the wild grin turned sly. “I told you, Jackie, it’s a gift,” he turned the vial over in his hand, squeezing it in his hand, the glass shattering easily. “I wanted you to feel everything, to know what it feels like to be completely broken, for your entire body to be your enemy.” The humour was fading, anger slipping in, turning the soft words into a hiss.

The pain was a shock, and Jack thrashed trying to escape, realising belatedly that Reaper had smashed the broken shards of the vial into his already tattered and torn cheek. The glass sliced easily into his skin, burrowing deep. “But you still had your SEP healing, and even though it was slowing, it wasn’t enough. So, I had to get creative.” Reaper patted his cheek, pushing the glass deeper, the smile slowly returning as Jack fought to stay silent, breathless gasps the only sound he allowed himself. “I’m sure you remember Moira?” Jack narrowed his eyes, old anger flickering to life for a second, but not without dread. “Well, she was only too willing to help me, payback for what you did to her back then, and SEP’s work? Those amazing, life and world-changing developments that put us at the top of the world? They were child’s play to her, especially with a willing specimen.” Reaper gestured at himself, before leaning over Jack once more. “It didn’t take her long to make what I needed,” he reached out, slowly running a clawed finger over one of the scars from Zurich, reopening it with agonising slowness. “Something that would take away that pesky healing ability.” Jack was squirming, trying to pull away, but having nowhere to go. “But, would leave your strength and speed, after all, I want you to fight this Jack. Although, maybe I overestimated you….”

_Maybe you did, _Jack thought, barely daring to breathe as the claw came to a halt a short distance from his lip, eyes watering just at the thought of it tearing lower. It was strangely comforting to know that he hadn’t lost all his SEP enhancements, as much as he hated to admit it, even in the privacy of his own thoughts. And yet the thought of trying to fight this, even if he hadn’t already been ready for death, had him sick to his stomach. “What i-if I don’t want to fight…?” He forced out through gritted teeth.

The smile vanished in a flash of fury, and Jack’s lip split open as the threatening claw was raked over them, and all he could taste was blood as Reaper reared up above him. “Then I will still have my fun,” Reaper hissed, any hint of Gabriel disappearing from the contorted features, wisps rising as his skin tore apart, anger getting the better of him. “You left SEP as something more than human.” Claws lashed out, a flash of metal in the corner of Jack’s eye, and then the side of his head was alight as something tore. The pain came a split second later, an agonised groan that became a horrible retching sound, as Reaper lifted his hand, something bloody and fleshy between his fingers. “By the time you leave here, you will be less than human…because you’re not going to die here, Jackie.”

Reaper tossed the ruined ear aside, reaching for Jack, one hand curling around his bruised neck, not tight enough to strangle him, but enough to have him stiffening. “Not yet, not until you know what it feels like to be broken.” He leaned closer, the acrid smoke rising from him, stinging Jack’s eyes and nose, ghosting over the wounds, and setting them alight as it seeped inside. “To have every inch of your body reminding you that you shouldn’t still be alive.” Reaper’s other hand swiped down his front, slicing easily through Jack’s undershirt, and leaving deep bloody furrows down his front, slowing as he moved lower. “And you forget what it was like to have a world beyond the pain.” Jack trashed against him, the slow drag of claws through his skin worse than the sudden pain of the previous strike, eyes growing wide as Reaper kept going, down his chest, and across the softer flesh of his stomach.

“…Stop…” He gasped between broken groans, panic and terror taking hold of him. He was ready to die, he wanted it, especially like this, the pain overwhelming him now…the thought that he would have to live with this, with this terrifying agony, more than he could bear. “Please,” he choked out, blood speckling his lips. _Please, Gabriel…Gabe…don’t do this._

“You always were beautiful when you begged,” Reaper purred, delighted, but the anger was still there and his fingers tightened, claws pricking Jack’s neck, adding fresh wounds. “But I begged too. Under the rubble, feeling my body failing me even as I waited for you to come for me. Trusting that you would do that much, even after everything.” Jack fell silent, chest heaving, eyes burning as he stared at Reaper. “I pleaded for you to come, even just so I wouldn’t die alone. But you didn’t come.” The claws in his stomach pressed deeper, tearing into muscle and Jack’s head snapped back, muscles popping against the hand against his throat as he tried not to scream. “Then I thought maybe you were dead, and I was going to join you. That we could be together again, in a way that we hadn’t been for months, and I was ready for death. Welcoming it.”

“Gabe…” He hadn’t meant to say it, and it was a mistake, he realised as the slow drag of claws, became a deep, tearing, burning sensation, sliding ever lower. He could smell his own blood now, gagging on it, choking, as fresh blood bubbled up in the corner of his mouth, groaning and gasping, head lolling to the side.

“And what did I find?” Reaper demanded, taking Jack’s belly button with his slash, impassive as Jack jerked and gagged, unable to stop himself crying out. “Not only was I unable to rest because of what SEP had done to me, but that you weren’t dead. That you were alive and had crawled out of those ruins without a backwards glance.”

_ I thought you were dead. I wasn’t thinking._ There were dozens of things that Jack could have said, remembering the grief and fury when he’d hauled himself out of the ruins, the overwhelming devastation when he’d thought that Gabriel was gone. He said nothing, because there had been no reaction to the nickname, no flicker of recognition let alone hesitation, and he realised that it didn’t matter what he said. Or what the truth was. It was too late for that. It had been too late the moment Zurich had crumbled around them. Besides, Reaper’s expressions, inhuman in its fury and monstrous as his control wavered, told him that he wasn’t looking for an apology. He was looking to take what he wanted, inch by bloody inch, and Jack…

Jack couldn’t stop him.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Jack begged for death. _

_ He wasn’t sure how long he’d lasted before the words had slipped out, a broken thread of sound, garbled as blood bubbled in the corner of his mouth. All concept of time, of the world beyond the room that had become a nightmarish pit of blood and pain, and worse, had faded. All he knew was that he couldn’t do this anymore. Everything hurt, to the point where he could no longer pinpoint a specific injury. Unable to think about anything but making this end._

_“…ill…me…” He could barely make out his own voice above his ragged breathing, the whimpers that he could no longer stifle, and the roaring in his ears that grew as his blood pooled around him on the ground. He was already dying, but it wasn’t happening fast enough, and his vision was blurred with tears as he tried to focus on his tormentor. On Reaper…on Gabriel… “P-p…” He coughed, blood splattering over his lips, arching up, as his entire body seized as a fresh wave of agony swept over him, and for a moment the world faded. _

_It didn’t last._

_ Even now Reaper wouldn’t give him that escape, and he came to, to the feeling of unnaturally sharp claws etching something into his cheek, slicing through already torn and bloody skin like it was paper. He couldn’t speak now, what strength he’d found to plea for mercy having fled, and his vision was blurring with shadows and tears as he stared up at Reaper. What did I do to you, Gabriel? How did I turn you into this? He was drifting, caught between the physical pain and the ache that came with those thoughts, eyes flickering, the darkness looming but remaining just out of reach. After all, Reaper was a master at what he was doing, ruthlessly efficient as he caused as much pain as possible without letting Jack slip away on him, and Jack wanted to hate him. But even that was beyond him at this point, even when his head started to loll to the side, his body beginning to fail, and Reaper’s hand shifted, abandoning his cheek and grabbing his chin._

_“Look at you.” They were face to face now, so close that Jack could feel Reaper’s too-hot breath against his ruined face, another pain in the multitude of agonies. “You’re almost beautiful like this Jackie,” Reaper whispered, pressing their lips together, a terrible, painful parody of the kisses that lingered in Jack’s memories. Yet he couldn’t pull away, not just because of his injuries, but because of the hope that fluttered in his chest, the gentleness mocking him but letting him pray that maybe just maybe this was a spark of Gabriel shining through. That he might get the mercy, he had been pleading for._

_He should have known better._

_ Sharp teeth raked his lip, adding to his self-inflicted cuts as Reaper pulled back, looming over him, eyes too bright as they drank in the sight of him. Did he even look human anymore? Jack wondered briefly. He didn’t feel human. His body was distorted. A broken twisted imitation of the human form, and painted in his own blood…and worse he thought, trying not to let his mind drift to the burning, shifting sensation in his stomach, the warmth against chilled skin. The echo of claws buried deep in skin and muscle and burrowing deeper by the second. “How does it feel Jack?” Reaper’s hands were moving now, releasing his chin, and ghosting over his body. He didn’t even have to press down for Jack to howl in agony, instinctively twisting to try and escape the pain, only to cause himself more. “What will the others think of you now?”_

_ Jack groaned, shaking his head. He didn’t want the others to see what had become of him, he didn’t want to become another ghost that would haunt them, and some small part of him didn’t want them to see what had become of Gabriel. What Jack’s actions…and inactions had done to the man they’d once called a friend. They might not get the chance anyway, Jack realised, belatedly aware of the numbness creeping into his body. The pain was still there, especially as Reaper pressed down on whatever remained of his abdomen, but there was a disconnect, as though he was finally beginning to slip. “They’re going to find you lying in your own mess, and they’re going to try and save you because they can’t help themselves,” Reaper was smiling now, a terrifying expression but Jack didn’t care, drifting away now. “They’ll patch you back together, but you’ll always be mine, Jack. Each day you’ll remember this, and you’ll know what it is to be broken, and ruined by the one you love.” _

_ Jack blinked, sure that he must’ve misheard, but he couldn’t even see Reaper’s expression anymore, his vision hazed over. Still, as he fell, finally finding the edge and toppling over it, a smile tugged at his lips – it might be nothing but the ravings of a dying man, but he could at least die thinking that some part of Gabriel still loved him._

****

The warehouse was in pitch blackness when the dropship arrived, and as Lena carefully eased the ship down into the narrow strip of open ground available to them, Angela leant forward and studied the building with a frown. “I don’t like this, Winston,” she murmured, glancing at the screen where Winston was watching her with worried eyes. “There’s nothing here.” The distress call had come in hours ago, but it had taken them time to get here, and at first, she had been worried that they were going to be too late. Now though, looking at the dark warehouse, and the dilapidated buildings stretching out around it, she couldn’t imagine why one of their own would have been out here. Which left an ambush, and she wasn’t keen to walk straight into it, especially when they barely had enough assets to deal with vital missions at the moment. “I think we should pull out.”

“The distress beacon is still there,” he replied, checking the screens above him, and she could hear Echo and Athena saying something to him, although the words were too quiet for her to make out over the communicator.“And it matches Jack’s identification.”

_Jack._

The dropship fell quiet, Lena’s knuckles turning white on the controls, while behind her, she heard Genji cursing under his breath. That was a name that drummed up a multitude of emotions for everyone in Overwatch. It had been a shock when they’d learned that he was still alive, and even more so when he had refused to officially join the new Overwatch after Ana – and wasn’t that another shock – had dragged him to the Watchpoint. Still, he had helped them more than once, both through feeding them information that otherwise they’d never have got their hands on, the network that the previous Overwatch had been able to access having crumbled in the wake of the fall, and even joining them on the field more than once. He might claim not to be one of them, but he had risked his neck for them, which meant that they couldn’t just walk away if there was a chance that he was in there and needing help.

“We’ll check it out,” she said finally.

“Be careful,” Winston ordered. “We can’t afford to lose any of you, even for him.” It hurt to hear it put into words, but Angela knew that he was right. There had been a time when the world, and they had put Jack on a pedestal, and they had fallen with him. But this was a different time, a different Overwatch, and she nodded, to show she understood before turning away to collect her gear, unable to stop herself from glancing back out the window.

_Jack, you better be alive in there…_

*

When they first saw Jack, they thought that he was dead.

The warehouse had been just as abandoned as it had looked from the outside, but there was evidence that it had been used recently, the lock on the door main door having been blasted off with what looked like the blast from a shotgun. _Reaper,_ Genji had muttered before slipping away to scout around the side, leaving Lena and Angela to venture in through the front door. Between Angela’s staff and the Chronal Accelerator, they’d had just enough light to see by as they’d ventured past rusted machinery, and long-forgotten barrels and canisters, neither of them paying any attention to them beyond a check to make sure they weren’t rigged to blow. The floor was thick with dust, clouds of it rising with each step that they took, but they could make out other tracks… the odd clear footprint, and what looked worryingly like the trail that would be left by a human body being dragged along.

“Why can they never choose a brightly lit area,” Lena grumbled under her breath, falling silent when Angela shot her look, both of them straining to hear anything in the building around them, as they worked through the maze-like stacks.

They had made it through three-quarters of the central part when they heard Genji shouting from somewhere further into the building, and with a shared glance, they burst into a run, trusting that he wouldn’t have raised his voice if it wasn’t safe. Lena kept apace with her, apparently having taking Winston’s warning to heart as she could have easily made it there in a tenth of the time, and they both burst into what had clearly been an office at some point at the same time, coming to an abrupt halt as the horror of the scene hit them.

It looked as though there had been a massacre in the room, the floor which looked as though it had been a pale wood at some point, was dark and damp beneath their feet, and as Lena pulled out a flare and tossed into the corner away from where they could see the light from Genji’s mask, the world was bathed in red and brown. The walls were splattered with it, but the floor. Angela lifted a hand to her mouth, trying not to breath as the smell of the blood, and worse hit her nose. “Angela…” Genji didn’t sound like himself, and she immediately realised why as she took in the figure sprawled by his feet.

“Is…?”

“It’s Jack,” he confirmed, already crouching down. _How can you tell? _She wanted to ask, because whatever clothes the poor soul had been wearing had been torn to shreds, and there was nothing on the ground around them. As for their body… Angela had seen a lot in her years, and she’d thought that she’d seen the worst that humans had to offer, but this. They looked more like one of the carcasses that you used to see in the old-fashioned butchers, than a human, and she couldn’t move. _Jack._ There was no way anyone could have survived that, not even a SEP soldier, and she wasn’t ready to see the full extent of what had been done to him or to see his features devoid of life. “Angela, he’s still alive.” It took a second for the words to break through her shock, and she was already moving, rushing forward before it had dawned other what Genji had said.

_How? How could he be alive?_

Up close, Jack looked a thousand times worse, and she cursed low and fierce under her voice. _What kind of monster could do this?_ But, she already had her answer, remembering Genji’s growl when they’d first arrived. Reaper. _Gabriel._ None of them had wanted to believe it when Ana had told them who was behind the mask, but she’d had no reason to lie to them, as Gabriel had been closer to her and Jack than anyone, and yet still Angela had hoped that there was something more to it. That maybe he was playing the other side, but this…

“Can you save him…?” Lena had followed her across, gagging at the sight and smell, and sounding as though she was an inch away from tears. As much as Angela hated hearing her like that, it helped to ground her, and she pushed the questions and horror aside and forced herself to reach out and touch Jack, her fingers immediately slick with blood.

He was barely breathing, a shallow, raspy sound that had her nerves immediately on edge, and the rise and fall of his chest under her searching fingers was uneven. He was alive, just…and she had no idea how to keep him that way because he wasn’t just injured. He was broken. Her gloves were glowing, the nanites in them providing readings, even as they tried to find what to work on first, but there was just too much. This went beyond torture. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted, realising that two pairs of eyes were watching her anxiously. “I haven’t seen anything even close to this, since…” Her eyes flickered to Genji, who tensed and nodded, before looking back at Jack. _Since Genji was brought it,_ she thought. That had been the hardest case she’d ever dealt with, and it had been closer than she had ever told him. Jack was worse, and she didn’t have the same resources that she’d had back then.

Still, for all her doubts, she was already working, assessing the readings, eyes stinging as she struggled to take in the full extent of the damage. _Gabriel, what have you become? _ There had always been rumours about some of his methods, particularly towards the end, but she could never have imagined cruelty like this, as the list of injuries grew.

_Concussion – severe -probably from multiple impacts. One ear missing. Both legs were broken in numerous places, post-fracture damage to nerves. Ribs broken, and those that weren’t severely bruised – with pressure against the lungs, which helped to explain his breathing, and the blood that had dried in the corner of his mouth. Fractured right wrist. Left shoulder dislocated, with further damage – the nerves a ruined mess. Deep lacerations across his face, chest and down to his abdomen – the latter setting off multiple alarms – blood loss, muscle damage, internal injuries that she wouldn’t be able to assess properly here._

Angela felt sick, as she realised that every single wound had been calculated carefully. Jack wasn’t supposed to die from this, but there was no way he would come out of this like he had been, and for the first time, she hesitated. She knew Jack, or at least she had, and she knew that he wouldn’t want this. He wouldn’t want the existence that she and Reaper would be cursing him too, because this wasn’t something you just came back from. And something else was wrong because there was no sign of any healing, beyond where her own technology had finally got to work, focusing on his abdomen and lungs, even as her mind raced. She knew that the SEP healing had still been present the last time they’d joined forces, and none of the research suggested that it would fail entirely like this, although he had admitted that it had slowed as he’d aged. Then again, Talon and therefore Reaper had access to more research, and her lips tightened. _He planned this._

“Angela…?”

“I am going to stabilise him as best I can,” Angela looked up at Lena, realising that she had already made her decision, just praying that Jack would understand. “Lena, get the dropship ready and plan the shortest route back to the Watchpoint and tell Winston I need Lucio to have the infirmary ready. Genji, I’m going to need you to help me get him out of here.” There wasn’t much she could do here. The technology she carried in the field was only meant to patch up emergency wounds, and while she had advanced it over the years, she had never expected to be confronted by something like this. “I can’t make any promises, and…”

“He’ll live,” Lena whispered, cutting her off before disappearing in a flash of blue. Leaving Angela and Genji in a strained silence, as Angela continued to work.

“You’re going to do to him, what you did to me?” It wasn’t an accusation, and yet Angela couldn’t help but flinch, remembering how angry Genji had been at first. They had long since made their peace, and become good friends, but this situation was bringing it all back, and she couldn’t bring herself to look at him as she nodded before adding quietly.

“Only it’s going to be much worse…”


End file.
